Nyman Banks pulled into the driveway of his parents’ sprawling estate, the setting sun casting long shadows over the meticulously manicured lawn. The house, a stately mansion that screamed old money, stood tall and proud against the backdrop of Jinstain's urban sprawl. To the untrained eye, it was the epitome of luxury, but Nyman knew better. The foundation was beginning to crumble, and he wasn’t just talking about the building.As he stepped out of his sleek, black sports car, he noticed something unusual—boxes. Lots of them, stacked haphazardly on the front porch. The front door was ajar, and through the opening, he could see more boxes scattered across the foyer. His mother, Sandra Banks, was known for her composure, her relentless control over every aspect of her life, and for always maintaining an appearance of calm, no matter the circumstances. Seeing the house in disarray was a shock.Nyman frowned as he approached the door, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

Kerrigan woke in her Jinstain estate bed, the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns across the room.She stretched, feeling the slight ache in her muscles, but as her hand swept across the sheets, she frowned. Conor’s side of the bed was cold. Disappointment tugged at her as she sat up, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.She dressed quickly, pulling on a loose blouse and fitted jeans. The house was unusually quiet as she made her way down the grand staircase, the faint hum of voices pulling her toward the kitchen.As she rounded the corner, she found her entire team gathered, hunched over Reilynn's tablet, their faces illuminated by the screen’s blue glow. The air was thick with tension, the usual morning banter replaced by somber silence.Kerrigan’s heart quickened. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice breaking the uneasy quiet.The team parted slightly, allowing her to see the video playing on the tablet. It was a news report from

The morning air carried a crisp chill as Conor, Kerrigan, and Sorcha stepped out of the SUV, their boots crunching on the gravel driveway of the once-beautiful violin shop.Smoke and charred wood lingered in the air, the acrid scent of loss and devastation permeating the quiet street.The shop that had once been filled with the soothing strains of masterful violins and the soft murmur of customers was now nothing but a blackened skeleton, its heart and soul reduced to ashes.Master Gunther, the elderly luthier who had built the shop from the ground up, stood at the edge of the rubble, his shoulders slumped. The faint sound of creaking timbers echoed as a light wind blew through the remains, carrying away fragments of the past.His hands, usually steady and confident, trembled slightly as he ran a hand over what was left of the carved sign that had hung proudly above his door for decades.The sign was barely readable now, scorched and broken, like a cruel reminder of the destruction wr

The sun was setting behind the distant Targu mountains, casting long shadows that stretched over Jinstain’s bustling streets.Just outside the city, where nature blocked all sight and sound of city life, Conor and Kerrigan sat in the spacious study, papers and maps spread out before them.A small fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth comforting but not enough to ease the tension that hung in the air.Sorcha stood by the door, vigilant as ever, her eyes constantly scanning the room and its surroundings.Parker leaned casually against the far wall, arms crossed, but his relaxed posture was misleading. His sharp gaze never strayed far from Conor even here in their Jinstain stronghold.Kerrigan glanced at Conor, her brow furrowed as she sorted through a stack of documents. “We’ve put Kelan on the run, and every day that he stays hidden, Gregor’s hold weakens. But it’s not enough. We need to plan our next move carefully.”Conor nodded, his expression focused. “Kelan’s desperate, and a d

The atmosphere in the grand chamber of the High Counsel of Nobles was tense and charged. Ornate chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a glow over the room that was equal parts majestic and foreboding.The long table at the center was flanked by plush chairs occupied by the most powerful figures in the kingdom. Each of them wore expressions ranging from guarded skepticism to outright disdain as Conor and Kerrigan entered, escorted by their dragoons.Sorcha moved with practiced vigilance, her sharp eyes scanning every corner of the room, while Parker stood firmly at Conor’s side, his presence a reassuring wall of strength.Conor’s gaze met Kerrigan’s briefly, a silent exchange of support and resolve. The two moved confidently to their seats, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of tension that rippled through the room.Aileana MacKenna, their press secretary, had met with them earlier in the day. She had prepped them for this exact moment, urging them to maintain compos