Location: The Elaran Estate – Scottish Highlands
The wind howled like an omen through the jagged cliffs surrounding the estate. Rain danced on the rooftops like the ticking of a deadly clock.
Alethea moved silently down the candlelit hallway, her senses on high alert. Omega's voice whispered through her earpiece.
"Subject NYX has bypassed perimeter defenses. Motion sensors show she's heading for the art wing. Alone."
Alethea's jaw tightened. "Let her come."
She entered the gallery room, walls lined with portraits of her past—the girl she was, the pain she buried, and the woman she had become.
The room was silent.
Then—click.
The sound of heels.
Alethea turned.
And there she was.
Nyx stepped from the shadows like a vision in black satin. Her expression was unreadable. Her movements, fluid. In her hand was a thin obsidian blade, glinting like a promise of death.
They stood facing each other.
Two versions of the same origin. One born to heal. One born to kill.
"Hello, sister," Nyx purred.
Alethea's hand hovered near the dagger at her thigh. "We're not sisters. We're the result of the same crime."
Nyx smiled, circling her like a wolf. "Still poetic. Still pretending you're not a weapon."
"You chose to be one."
"No, I was designed to be one," Nyx said, voice sharp. "While you were given freedom. Love. Marco." Her eyes darkened. "You had everything I didn't."
"You think I didn't suffer?"
"You think I care?"
In a blink, Nyx lunged.
Alethea ducked, twisting away as the obsidian blade sliced the air where her neck had been. She rolled, drew her own weapon, and clashed steel against steel.
Sparks flew.
They moved like dancers trained in violence—mirrored stances, mirrored strikes. The same training. The same instincts. Only different hearts.
Nyx struck with elegance. Alethea countered with precision.
"You're holding back," Nyx sneered, pushing her back.
"I'm fighting to survive. You're fighting to prove you exist."
Nyx growled. "Don't psychoanalyze me!"
She lunged again, this time faster. Their blades locked near Alethea's throat.
"I've studied every second of your life," Nyx hissed. "I know when you hesitate. When you break. When you bleed."
"Then you forgot one thing," Alethea said through clenched teeth.
"What?"
Alethea's eyes burned.
"When I rise."
With a sudden burst of energy, Alethea twisted free, swept Nyx off balance, and sent her crashing into a marble sculpture behind them. The statue shattered on impact, fragments flying across the room.
Nyx coughed, stunned, blood trickling from her lip.
"I'm not the same girl you watched," Alethea said, standing tall. "And if you come for what I love again, I will bury you."
Nyx laughed bitterly, wiping her lip.
"Oh, I'm counting on it."
She threw a smoke capsule to the ground—BOOMMM.
The gallery filled with thick, violet fog. By the time Omega burst in with Marco and the team, Nyx was gone—leaving behind only the echo of her words and the broken statue.
Marco rushed to Alethea. "Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "She's good. But not unstoppable."
Omega scanned the room. "She didn't come to kill. She came to provoke."
"She wanted to see me. Study me," Alethea said. "She's planning something bigger."
Marco narrowed his eyes. "Then so do we."
---
Location: Unknown
Nyx sat alone in a candlelit chapel, her blade resting on her knees.
A woman entered, dressed in robes of the Council.
"You failed."
Nyx didn't look up. "No. I learned."
"She's stronger than expected."
"She's becoming what they feared," Nyx said with a dangerous smirk. "That's why I'll destroy her. Not with a blade—but with a choice."
"And Marco?"
Nyx leaned back, licking the blood from her glove.
"He'll have to choose, too."
TBC.....