In Tavara – Grand Thalor Gala Hall, Evening
Crystals hung from the vaulted ceiling like frozen stars. The chandeliers bathed the Grand Thalor Gala Hall in a soft golden light that reflected off silk gowns, tailored tuxedos, and polished ambition. Music whispered in the background—a soft string quartet playing something elegant, almost mournful.
Nora descended the marble staircase, every inch the poised goddess. Her emerald gown hugged her figure like liquid temptation, the slit teasing a glimpse of her thigh. Around her neck, a diamond choker glittered, once belonging to her grandmother—now a silent ward of courage.
All eyes turned.
She knew they would.
But her attention was fixed on the host of the evening—Dr. Alphonse Derain, head of Tavara's elite Medical Research Council. The man had an aged grace, but beneath his smile lay the cunning of a scientist who had made too many devils' bargains.
"Nora," he greeted, kissing her hand. "You grace us with your presence."
"I wouldn't miss it," she replied with a careful smile. "Especially not with the Council funding so many…interesting projects lately."
Derain's eyes glinted. "We do what must be done for progress."
A waiter passed by. Nora plucked a flute of champagne but didn't drink.
Across the room, Aveline Blackwell raised a glass in silent mockery. She was clad in deep crimson, lips matching, her hair twisted in an intricate updo that screamed calculated chaos. Around her orbited Tavara's finest—politicians, investors, socialites, and a few faces Nora recognized from intelligence dossiers.
Behind Aveline, a man lingered in shadows. Nora frowned—he looked familiar.
Too familiar.
She moved through the crowd with elegant precision, her mind churning. This wasn't just a gala. It was a theater—every guest a pawn, every toast a move on a hidden board.
Derain reappeared at her side. "You should visit our lab soon. There's something you'd find…fascinating."
"What kind of something?"
He smiled. "A glimpse into the future."
Before she could probe further, her phone buzzed.
She stepped away to a quiet alcove and checked the encrypted message.
Sender: Unknown
Message: You're not safe. Get out. Now.
*Attachment: Surveillance Footage – Date: 6 Days Ago
— Damien, unconscious.
— A figure injecting something into his arm.
— The figure's face turns—
Aveline.
Nora's blood ran cold.
She shut the phone just as Aveline approached.
"Enjoying the party?" Aveline asked, tilting her head.
"It's enlightening," Nora replied.
Aveline's eyes were sharp. "You've always been so composed. Even when drowning in lies."
"I don't drown," Nora said quietly. "I resurface."
The smile on Aveline's lips didn't reach her eyes. "Be careful, Nora. This world has sharp edges."
"So do I."
---
In Damien's Study – Sinclair Estate
Damien stood over a spread of documents, his phone pressed to his ear.
"She's still at the gala?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," his security aide replied. "But there's more. Someone used your clearance code yesterday. They tried to access Level 9."
Damien's grip tightened. "Impossible. Only Nora and I have access."
"Exactly. Which means someone inside has your biometric data."
Damien's gaze flicked to the monitor showing live footage from the estate.
"If they wanted something from Level 9," he muttered, "they weren't just curious. They were planning something bigger."
He ended the call.
Then, a low chime rang from his other phone.
Message Received – Encrypted:
She knows about Aveline. Be ready.
Damien's eyes narrowed. He stood still for a moment, then strode to his private vault and unlocked it. Inside, he pulled out a small, matte-black case marked with only one thing:
C.E.L.L. – Confidential Experimental Link Labs
He opened it.
Inside was a vial.
Half-empty.
His jaw clenched.
In a Gala Hall – Rear Garden
Nora needed air. The garden was lit by warm fairy lights, but the cold breeze of Tavara's night bit at her skin. She wrapped her shawl tighter.
Footsteps approached.
She turned, expecting security.
Instead, she saw him.
Damien.
She blinked. "You're supposed to be at the estate."
"I had to see you," he said, breath misting in the air.
He stepped closer. "You got the footage?"
She nodded. "I don't know what she did to you, but I'm going to find out."
"I already did," he whispered. "She dosed me with a serum. Not to kill. To trace."
"Trace?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a second vial. "This. It allows them to track neuro-patterns. Behavior. Memories. Maybe more."
Nora's fingers trembled as she touched the vial. "You kept this from me?"
"I didn't want you in more danger."
She laughed bitterly. "We're past that."
Their eyes locked—anger, pain, and something deeper simmering between them.
"I need you," he said simply. "Not just in this fight. But all of it."
She looked up at him. "Then don't keep secrets."
He cupped her face, leaned in—and kissed her. Not with urgency, but with aching vulnerability. Like he didn't know how many more kisses they had left.