Flynn stood by the window, his phone in his hand, scrolling through messages from Priya that he hadn't had time to answer properly."Busy day?" she had texted three hours ago."Something came up. Talk later?" he had replied."Of course. Love you."He hadn't responded. He had been pulled into another briefing, another lead, another dead end.Now, standing in the fading afternoon light, he felt the weight of his silence."Flynn."He turned. Chance stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable."You've been staring at that phone for five minutes," Chance said. "What's wrong?"Flynn shook his head. "Nothing. Just... Priya. I've been distracted."Chance crossed the room, motioning for Flynn to sit. They settled into two leather armchairs by the cold fireplace."Talk to me," Chance said.Flynn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been so focused on the Vane investigation, on the family, on all of it—I haven't been paying attention to what matters most.""Which is?""Priya." Flyn

The morning light filtered through the trees as Harry made his way across the estate grounds. He had woken early, unable to sleep, his mind churning with thoughts of Vane, of the obsidian artifacts, of the darkness that seemed to creep closer with each passing day.He found Marta in her garden, as he often did. She knelt among the roses, her hands buried in the soil, her movements slow and deliberate. The sun had just begun to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold."Marta," Harry said softly, not wanting to startle her.She looked up, her eyes meeting his. There was peace in her face, but beneath it, Harry sensed something else—something heavy, unspoken."You're up early," she said, brushing dirt from her hands."Couldn't sleep." He knelt beside her, helping her pull weeds from the flower bed. "You?"Marta was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I dream of them sometimes. Viktor. Sparrow."Harry's hands stilled. "What do they say?""They don't speak." Marta's voice was di

"The Guardians," Marta said. "The same network Viktor belonged to. They've been protecting the source for centuries."Harry exchanged a glance with Gerald."Then we need to get to Prague," Harry said. "Before Vane does."Gerald nodded slowly. "I'll make the arrangements."***The evening had settled over the city, the streetlights flickering to life as Ava left her law firm. She had worked late again, as she often did, trying to keep up with the demanding caseload while also managing the growing distance between her and Gerald.He had been so busy lately. The Vane investigation, the O'Connor family drama, the endless meetings and briefings—it seemed like there was always something pulling him away. She understood, of course. She knew the importance of his work, the weight of his commitment to the O'Connor Empire. But understanding didn't make the loneliness any easier.She decided to stop at the grocery shop on her way home, hoping that a simple, mundane task might settle her nerves.

The door to Gerald's office burst open, and Chance strode in, his face carved from stone. The usual warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold fury that made Harry's blood run cold."Update me," Chance said, his voice clipped.Gerald spread a map across the desk. "Christopher took Ava from a grocery store parking lot. He called me from her phone. He wants us to drop the Vane investigation."Chance studied the map, his jaw tight. "What's his connection to Vane?""We believe they've formed an alliance," Harry said. "Vane needs resources. Christopher needs power. Together, they're trying to awaken the Obsidian's source."Chance's eyes darkened. "Then we need to stop them both."Gerald hesitated. "But Ava—""We'll find her." Chance's voice was hard. "But we can't let Christopher dictate our actions. If we drop the investigation, Vane wins. And more people will die."Gerald was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly."You're right."Harry stepped forward. "Do you have any way

The estate was quiet, the clock on the mantel ticking softly in the darkness. Harry sat in the library, Viktor's journal open on his lap, the pages yellowed with age, the handwriting cramped and faded. He had been reading for hours, his eyes burning, his mind racing.The others had gone home hours ago. Chance had offered to stay, but Harry had insisted on being alone. He needed to focus. He needed to find answers.The journal was filled with Viktor's observations—detailed notes on the Obsidian, on the relics, on the nature of the darkness. But there was nothing about creating another talisman. Nothing about how to replace what had been lost.Harry flipped another page, then another. His hope was fading.And then he saw it.A small sketch in the margin, barely visible. A diagram of the estate, with a mark beneath the library."The workshop," Viktor had written. "Where the work began."Harry's heart raced. A hidden workshop. Beneath the estate.He grabbed his phone and dialed Chance.**