454: Shadow Lineage

Location: Underground Surveillance Room – Dominion Archives, Geneva

Victor leaned back in the worn leather seat of the Dominion's hidden command chamber, watching the multiple screens blink with biometric alerts and satellite pings. The Seraphim Protocol had activated—and Dominion's core knew it. A siren pulsed softly in red, like a heartbeat of an ancient beast being roused from slumber.

"You were right," Mira whispered beside him. The usually imperturbable intelligence operative looked shaken. "She's not just a doctor. She's a gatekeeper. Possibly… a creator."

Victor didn't speak. His eyes remained glued to the cascading code—Nora's DNA sequence was rewriting the Dominion's encryption systems in real-time, forcing old legacy files to decrypt themselves.

"Play sequence Omega-17," Victor ordered.

Mira hesitated, then tapped a manual override. The screen dimmed, flickered, and then revealed an old transmission: grainy footage of a council of seven figures seated in the shadows. In the center—an unmistakable silhouette of Ira Kane.

The late father of Nora.

Victor's jaw clenched. "Pause."

He recognized another face—aged, masked—but the voice was chillingly familiar.

"Matthias," he growled.

Mira nodded. "He was part of the founders. The Seraphim Dominion wasn't an organization, Victor. It was a blood pact between rival dynasties. A safeguard and a weapon. Nora's father tried to separate from it. He failed."

Victor turned away from the screen, the weight of the revelation settling like lead. "Nora doesn't know this."

"Maybe she does," Mira said gently. "Maybe she always knew her hands could heal or destroy."

At that moment, Damien's encrypted call came through. The screen glitched before stabilizing on his face, covered in sweat, tension lining his jaw.

"Victor. We have a situation."

"What now?"

"Nora activated the Seraphim Protocol," Damien said. "But the protocol has a secondary echo. Something's reaching out to her—deep code buried in her neural structure. Artificial memory locks. If they break, she could collapse. Or worse—be controlled."

Victor felt his pulse quicken. "She's in Tavara?"

"In the Calhoun crypt. I have my team ready, but we need a neural anchor. Someone close enough—mentally and emotionally—to stabilize her if the convergence peaks."

Victor stood, already heading for the exit.

"That someone is me."