The morning mist over London softened the edges of St. Michael's Cemetery, but nothing could soften the tension inside the Director of the House. Adrian Veylan sat in his office, a list of names on the screen before him. It wasn't a mission dossier. It was a funeral guest list. Noor. Marcus. And Morgana Thayle—a ghost who had returned under another name.
Adrian had spent the entire night reviewing what little they knew of Sable Quinn. Her carefully constructed life as an American gallery curator in her early twenties was as spotless as it was deliberate. No digital fingerprints tying her to the House. No past that could be easily traced. And yet, every instinct he had screamed that this was Morgana. Changed. Younger in appearance with her hair bleached to gold and styled with casual elegance. Beautiful enough to disarm anyone who looked at her, but dangerous enough to disappear in a crowd.
He closed the file and leaned back, fingers steepled. This funeral would not just be for the dead. It would be a test, a trap, and an invitation.
---
The Letter
Two days later, a cream-colored envelope slipped under the door of a rented flat in Kensington. Sable Quinn picked it up as if it were poison.
Inside, a single sheet of heavy card:
> The House requests your presence at the memorial of Noor Al-Hadid and Marcus Thayle.
Saturday, 11:00 a.m. St. Michael's Cemetery, London.
Attendance private. Those who know are already family.
She read the names again. Noor. Marcus. Her heart clenched, but her expression remained unreadable.
"I should burn this," she muttered. And yet, she didn't.
---
The Funeral
Saturday came gray and damp. Sable stood at the cemetery gate, an outsider in every sense. Her blond hair caught the pale light, the rain tracing paths down her flawless face. She wore a simple black coat that fit like it had been cut for her alone, and beneath it, a dress that suggested elegance without effort.
The few guests who were already present turned to look at her, not recognizing the ghost that walked among them. Even Callen, standing with the operatives, hesitated. "Is that…?"
"Yes," Adrian said quietly. He had been waiting for her.
Sable walked up the path between rows of graves. The wind tugged at her coat, carrying with it the faint scent of roses laid for Noor and Marcus. Her steps were steady, her posture unbroken, but every part of her wanted to run.
---
Face to Face
When she reached the fresh earth, she stopped. Noor's grave was marked by a simple marble stone, carved with a single line: She was light in dark places.
Next to it was Marcus's grave, his name cleanly cut into stone. She knelt, touching the damp earth, her blond hair falling forward to hide her face.
"I told myself I wouldn't come," she whispered. "But here I am."
She stayed like that for a long time. When she rose, Adrian was standing a few feet away.
"Why invite me?" she asked, her voice low.
"Because you deserved to say goodbye," he said. "Because they deserved to know you still live, even if only I see it."
"And because you want something," she said, a blade hidden in the softness of her tone.
---
The Conversation
They walked slowly through the cemetery, keeping their voices low so the others wouldn't hear.
"You've built yourself a beautiful lie," Adrian said finally. "You've disappeared better than anyone I've ever trained. But that doesn't erase the truth. You can change your hair, your name, your life. You'll always be Morgana."
She looked at him then, and for a heartbeat, the ice in her eyes cracked. "Don't call me that. Sable is all I have left. You saw to that."
"I came here for answers," she continued. "Tell me why the Board is hunting me. Tell me what Cassandra really did to me. Or the next funeral will be yours."
Her voice was so soft that no one else heard it, but Adrian felt it like a bullet.
He stopped walking. "You think I wanted Cassandra? You think I wanted to put you through that?"
"I don't care what you wanted," she said. "I care that you did it. And now they think they own me."
"They don't," he said firmly. "Not while I breathe."
She shook her head. "You don't own me either. After today, stay out of my way. If the Board wants me, let them try. But if you stand between me and the truth again…"
Her hand brushed his arm, light as a whisper, but the threat was unmistakable.
"Adrian," she finished, "I will end you."
---
Departure
She turned and walked away, the blond curtain of her hair catching in the wind. The operatives watched her go, most of them still unaware of who she truly was. To them, she was just a mysterious young American woman—a stranger with a haunting presence.
Adrian stood alone among the graves, the memory of Noor and Marcus heavy in his chest. He had invited a ghost, and she had come. But he had also seen something else in her eyes: fury. And determination.
"She'll never forgive you," Callen said softly.
"I don't need forgiveness," Adrian replied. "I need her alive."
---
Sable reached the gate and didn't look back. Her new life had collided with her old one, and now the city of London had become her battlefield. This was no longer about escape.
This was about war.