As someone in possession of the Pendragon Book, Elder Rooney was the man everyone turned to whenever the Bloodline acted strange. And today, the poor old man had been running support tickets nonstop.
Moments before Alex and Stan walked in, Caspian had popped up with one of his trademark weird questions.
"Is it possible to be influenced by a member of the base?" Caspian asked, scratching his cheek like he already hated the question.
"That is most certainly not possible," Elder Rooney replied without looking up.
Caspian rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed.
"Maybe I'm overthinking it. Or maybe I'm just tired. I don't even know why it crossed my mind."
Before Elder Rooney could comment, Alex and Stan stepped into their section of the library, bringing their own storms with them. Rooney handled that situation, barely caught his breath, and then Peter marched in with Bloodline worries of his own. Rooney got through that one too.
And now—because fate clearly had a sense of humor—Tamsin was sitting right in front of him, posture stiff, expression tight, like he was reporting to a superior officer.
Another complaint.
Another Alex-related problem.
Another headache loading.
"What did Alex do?" Elder Rooney asked, already bracing himself.
"During the mission… I gave him a command," Tamsin said. He leaned forward, fingers clasped. "And he didn't follow it."
"Are your feelings hurt by it?" Elder Rooney asked, voice dripping with dry sarcasm.
"It's not my feelings," Tamsin shot back. "It's the command. He didn't follow it. That shouldn't even be possible, right?"
Elder Rooney stayed quiet for a moment. Then a low chuckle slipped out of him.
"You…" he said, shaking his head. "I remember your Uncle Peter giving you and your siblings a direct command. Yet here you are, sitting in front of me, asking questions instead of doing what he told you."
Tamsin's brows pulled together.
"But… that's different. I'm a Pendragon too," he argued.
"It doesn't work that way, my boy," Elder Rooney said. He leaned back in his seat, spine popping softly.
"You see," Rooney continued, tapping a finger on the armrest, "even a command from the Keybreaker can be evaded. It isn't limited to just family members. Anyone in the faction can slip out of a command—even one coming from the strongest of us."
Tamsin frowned, thinking it through.
"That's why you don't give orders in a rush," Rooney added. "A command needs detail. You don't just shout 'stop' or 'don't move' and expect it to hold. Loose words make loose chains."
"But I still feel it's something more," Tamsin said quietly. "It didn't feel like a simple miss. It felt… different."
"You're overreacting," Elder Rooney said, waving a hand. "Maybe your pride stings because he ignored you. That's all."
He glanced toward the doorway.
"I think it's time you return to your duties. Theron might already notice you're missing."
Tamsin didn't look satisfied, not even close, but he stood anyway. He bowed slightly in respect.
"Thank you for your time, Elder Rooney," he said.
Then he turned and walked out of the library, steps calm but mind clearly not.
Meanwhile, Elder Rooney leaned back in his chair, watching the door swing shut behind Tamsin.
He exhaled slowly.
'So it begins… things are rolling on their own already. And I'm not even the one pushing them,' he thought.
A tired smile flickered.
'I just wonder where all this is heading.'
He reached for his book again, ready to sink into the page—
Bing.
A soft chime cut through the quiet. A system interface flashed across his view like an annoying pop-up that refused to respect old age.
'What now? Can't I get one peaceful minute?' he grumbled in his head.
He opened the message.
Peter's voice came through, tight and urgent.
"We came across them. The Synapse Circle."
Rooney froze for half a second. Then the old man snapped his book shut with a sharp thud and shot to his feet.
He swept out of the library, boots tapping faster than usual. By the time he reached Peter's office, the room was already full—faces tense, eyes heavy. Everyone knew that name carried trouble.
"How… how did we end up on their radar?" Elder Rooney asked. A headache pressed behind his eyes, the kind that promised a long, painful day.
---
After Alex, Tamsin, Gwen, and Merrick were rescued from the mission gone wrong, they were taken in for debriefing.
Peter didn't waste time. His focus was razor-sharp.
He wanted answers — what failed, who misinformed them, and why a simple recon had turned into a nightmare.
From the pieces they gathered, one thing became clear:
There had been bad intel about the Vornshade Clan.
Very bad intel.
This was unusual.
The Dragon Roar spies had a strong record—accurate intel from clans, factions, and outsiders. They rarely missed. This was the first time something slipped through the cracks, and everyone felt the weight of it.
Because of that, Peter was locked in.
He wanted answers, clean and exact. No guesses. No loopholes. He needed to know who fed them bad intel and why.
But someone else wanted the truth even more.
Saka.
Among the Pendragons, Saka was one of their sharpest spies. His bloodline ability made him dangerous—he could erase memories, extract them, and even read through the cracks people tried to hide. That mix of stealth and mental control put him in a league of his own.
What made him so determined was simple:
He was the one who originally infiltrated the Vornshade Clan.
He was the one who gathered the intel that was now labeled "misinformation."
And Saka didn't take kindly to being wrong.
He wanted to know what happened and who twisted the truth.
He stepped through one of the clan's portal anchors, teleporting to a point not far from the Vornshade border. Snow stretched in every direction. The sky hung low with thick clouds, the kind that promised a storm but hadn't dropped anything yet.
He moved forward anyway.
Saka adjusted his cloak, sinking into his stealth technique. His presence thinned out until even the wind seemed to forget he was there. Step by step, he crossed the quiet field, scanning for movement or traps.
Minutes passed.
He reached the edge of the Vornshade base.
But he was too late.
High-tech carriages hovered across the compound. Some floated in slow arcs, mechanical arms extending out to pick up bodies—dozens of them—lying frozen on the ground.
The scene looked cold, empty, and already wiped clean.
And whatever happened here…
It happened fast.
Some figures moved around the ruined base, all of them dressed the same—white jumpsuits, sealed helmets, oxygen masks, thick gloves. Head to toe covered.
They looked like workers handling radioactive waste, not people collecting bodies.
Before they touched anything—weapon, corpse, gear, even scraps—they paused and held their wrists over it. A small device glowed on each wrist, scanning the object and flashing quick readings only they understood.
Saka watched from the shadows.
'Other clans taking over a fallen clan's property is normal,' he thought.
'But this? This is too fast. There's no way the news of Vornshade's fall has even reached the black market yet. Yet these people are here first thing in the morning?'
He narrowed his eyes.
'Who are they?'
Without wasting time, he used his inspection skill on the nearest group.
[The Extraction Team of The Synapse Circle]
Saka blinked.
'Synapse Circle?'
A sharp chill ran down his spine.
'Oh… shit. I have to call this in.'
He didn't hesitate. He sent a detailed report straight to Peter, his voice clipped and urgent.
Back at the Dragon Roar base, Peter, his siblings, and Elder Rooney were all gathered when the alert came through.
Elder Rooney rubbed his temple and let out a tired breath.
"This day has really proven to be a busy one for me," he said, and no one disagreed.