London was nothing like she imagined. Rain slicked cobblestones glowed under amber streetlights, and the city's pulse felt centuries older than the skyscrapers that lined the Thames. For Sable Quinn—once Morgana Thayle—this was her first time stepping foot in the city. She had told herself this trip was about art, about forgetting, about starting fresh.
But ghosts had a way of finding her, no matter the continent.
---
A Tourist No Longer
Sable's cover was simple: an American gallery curator visiting London for a private exhibition. The plane ticket, the passport, the hotel booking—all of it real this time. She wanted, just once, to experience life without the shadow of the House. Without the blood.
Yet even as she took in the sights—Big Ben rising against the gray sky, the Tate's clean glass façade—her instincts whispered of danger. A year of running had honed them sharp.
On the second night, as she returned to her rented flat in Kensington, she saw it: a man leaning against a lamppost, watching. Another shadowed figure near the corner. The quiet hum of an engine idling down the street.
The Board had found her.
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The Board's Shadow
She acted casual, unlocking the door, climbing the narrow staircase, and then slipping silently out through the fire escape. Moments later, the flat door below exploded inward. She was already gone, sprinting across the rooftops in the pouring rain.
She made it to the Thames before she slowed, heart pounding, soaked to the bone. Her hands shook as she gripped the rail, staring out over the dark river.
That's when she heard the voice.
"Morgana."
---
The Director's Hand
Adrian stepped from the shadows, coat plastered to his body. He looked older, more worn than the last time she had seen him. Behind him, Callen kept his distance, wary.
"You followed me," she said.
"We've been following them," Adrian replied. "They weren't supposed to find you first."
She turned on him, eyes like ice. "And yet, here they are."
"We need to talk," he said, his voice low. "This isn't about the House anymore. It's about the Board. And what they want from you."
"I don't want anything to do with the House," she said. "I came to London to live as someone else. To be Sable Quinn, just a tourist. And you—" She jabbed a finger at his chest. "—you dragged me back into it."
"You were never out," he said quietly. "And you know it."
---
The Truth and the Threat
She hesitated. "Then tell me the truth. All of it. The experiments. Project Cassandra. Everything you did to me. Because if you don't…" She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I'll burn what's left of your House to the ground. And this time, I won't hesitate."
Rain dripped from his hair as he looked at her. "You were dying, Morgana. We had no choice. Cassandra was the only way to save you. It enhanced your reflexes, rebuilt what Emil broke. But it wasn't just healing. It was… transformation."
"Into what?"
"Into what you are now," he said softly. "Someone they will stop at nothing to control."
Her jaw tightened. "Then I'll make sure no one controls me. Not them. Not you."
---
The Divergence
She turned and began to walk away, leaving him in the rain.
"Where are you going?" Callen called after her.
"Somewhere the Board won't expect," she said over her shoulder. "And if you follow me, you'll only slow me down."
Adrian watched her vanish into the night. He knew she was heading straight into danger. And still, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.
---
Two Paths
By the time dawn broke over London, two paths had been set in motion.
Sable Quinn—no longer just a tourist—was hunting for answers about Project Cassandra, starting with the names she had seen hidden in Noor's old files.
The House began its own search for the Board, tracking whispers through Europe.
Two missions, running parallel. Two ghosts chasing the same enemy.
And soon, London would no longer be a city of safety, but a battlefield.