Location; Tavara – Capital Intelligence Annex, Black Sector
Tavara's capital shimmered under a molten-orange sunset, but inside the Intelligence Annex, the temperature had dropped to ice. Damien stood at the observation deck overlooking the Black Sector's main chamber, his jaw clenched, eyes trained on the live feed: Elise Lancaster—his cousin—seated in an interrogation cell.
The same Elise who used to sneak chocolates into his jacket during council meetings. The same Elise who once vowed never to sell out the bloodline.
"She accessed Level-9 files," said Director Amani. "Encrypted family vaults. Shared them with foreign proxies tied to the Archer Alliance."
Damien's fists tightened. "Why?"
"She didn't say. Not a word."
He descended the steel stairs into the chamber. Elise looked up, her eyes puffy, cheeks streaked with tears—but calm.
"You?" he asked, voice low, shaking. "You sold out our line?"
"I didn't sell anything," Elise whispered. "I… traded information to buy safety."
"For who?"
"For my little sister." She leaned forward. "They had her, Damien. In a container bound for Macau. If I didn't give them the vault files, they would have ended her. I begged the council. They refused. So I chose."
Silence.
Damien's fury warred with grief.
Meanwhile, in Tavara's royal quarter, Nora knelt before her mother's physician. The older woman's body trembled with energy, caught between lucidity and hallucination.
"Mom, it's me. Nora."
Her mother reached out weakly, grabbing Nora's wrist. "The twins… protect the twins."
Nora blinked. "What twins?"
"They separated them… Damien… your uncle… they took one to Romania…"
Then she passed out.
Nora stepped back, heart pounding.
She knew of no twins.
Back at the Annex, Elise was escorted out—pending judgment by the House of Lancasters. Damien sat in silence, the journal from his great-uncle open before him again.
> "There will be two born of the same blood—raised in silence, divided by war. Only together can they break the lineage curse."
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then, he turned to Director Amani.
"Get me flight clearance. Romania. Now."
Elsewhere—deep in the Russian Urals—Archer Grey studied a series of live feeds with a half-smile.
"They've taken the bait. Activate the sleeper in Prague."