Location: Remote Forest Outpost – Southern Tavara
The cold air bit at their skin as Damien and Nora emerged from a hidden tunnel exit deep within Tavara's southern wilderness. The early morning mist clung to the treetops, swirling like silent spirits as they stumbled into freedom. Every breath Damien took tasted of pine and urgency. Nora, though still dazed, clung to his arm with fierce determination.
They'd escaped the Crimson Veil—but not the truths it had unearthed.
Damien scanned their surroundings, then tapped a device embedded in his watch. A faint blue glow pulsed before a low beep confirmed encrypted satellite contact.
"Shadowhawk One," he said, voice low. "Extraction. Protocol Alpha-9. Two passengers. Coordinates transmitting now."
A voice crackled in his ear. "Copy that. ETA twelve minutes. Hold position."
He turned to Nora, easing her down onto a moss-covered rock. "How's your head?"
She nodded weakly, eyes unfocused. "It's… like fragments of my life just got shoved into my brain. Some make sense. Some… feel like someone else's memories."
Damien gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to make sense of it now. Just breathe."
"I saw her," she whispered. "My mother… I saw her die, Damien. But not how I was told. She wasn't running from enemies. She was running toward something. Someone."
Damien's eyes narrowed. "Someone like Selena?"
Nora nodded slowly. "I think my mother trusted her… and feared her. I saw her holding a pendant. It glowed, Damien. And I felt it, like it was part of me."
Damien tensed. "A pendant?"
Nora reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, metallic shard—jagged, ancient, but pulsing faintly with a blue hue. "I found it on the stone altar. I don't think they know I took it."
He studied it carefully, recognizing the arcane glyphs carved into its surface. "This is a fragment of the Primis Seal. It's a key—the kind of thing the Order would kill to retrieve."
A sudden rustling nearby sent Damien spinning to his feet, drawing his weapon.
But instead of an enemy, a familiar face stepped into view.
"Easy," said the man, hands raised. "Friendly."
"Calder?" Damien blinked.
The dark-haired commander of Damien's elite recon unit emerged from the trees, rifle slung over his shoulder. His jaw was tight, eyes scanning the treeline. "We picked up your emergency beacon. Took a shortcut through restricted airspace. You owe me a bottle of aged whiskey."
Damien gave a tight smile. "Put it on my tab."
Calder's eyes dropped to Nora. "Is she okay?"
"She will be," Damien replied. "We need a secure facility and full analysis on this." He handed over the shard.
Calder whistled under his breath. "This thing's humming like it wants to wake something up. I'll get it to the lab."
"Good," Damien said. "And Calder…"
"Yeah?"
"Make sure it's not our people watching us. Selena said the Order has moles. I want background checks redone. Every single one."
Calder's expression hardened. "Understood."
As Calder moved back toward the extraction point, Damien knelt beside Nora again, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.
"You're not alone," he said quietly.
She met his eyes, a faint smile breaking through the exhaustion. "I know."
Overhead, the low thrum of rotor blades echoed through the forest canopy. The extraction craft hovered into view—a sleek, black chopper bearing no insignia. Calder signaled with a flare, and the side doors slid open.
As the trio boarded, the forest below faded into mist once more. But neither Damien nor Nora looked back.
They had no choice but to look forward now—into the secrets waiting to be revealed, the enemies already moving, and the unbreakable bond slowly weaving them tighter together with every heartbeat.