Morning light spilled across the skyline like gold poured over glass.Northstar Tower looked impossibly clean, as if the previous night's chaos had never existed. Yet beneath the polished steel and mirrored façades, I could feel the hum — a low, dangerous energy vibrating through the building's bones. The mark at my collarbone pulsed in answer, faint silver beneath the silk of my blouse.
Adrian Voss's world was a machine, and today I was stepping inside it.
The elevator whispered upward, carrying me toward the executive floor. Each ping of the ascending numbers felt like a countdown. I adjusted my jacket, replaying the fragments of the night before: the mirror's shatter, the surge of light, his voice promising we'll face it together.
Together.A word that tasted like danger
The executive floor gleamed — sterile, expensive, quiet enough that every heel-click echoed like a secret being told. Assistants typed in synchronized rhythm. Holographic charts floated above desks. It was all precision and control, and at its center stood Adrian's glass-walled office overlooking the city.
"Ms. Morgan," the receptionist said with a polite, knowing smile. "Mr. Voss requested you use his private lift from now on."
"Why?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.
"It bypasses surveillance." Her tone lowered. "You'll understand soon."
I caught my reflection in a chrome pillar — hair perfect, eyes sharp, a woman pretending to belong. But beneath the surface, the mark shimmered faintly, betraying the truth: I was no ordinary employee.
I was a variable the Syndicate hadn't planned for.
His office door slid open at a gesture. Adrian stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, the skyline cutting behind him like a blade. Morning sunlight traced the line of his jaw, but his expression was unreadable — the practiced calm of a man who had rebuilt himself too many times.
"Sit," he said softly.
I did. The chair was colder than I expected.
He handed me a folder filled with encrypted data — numbers, symbols, and a sigil I recognized from the ruins below the city. "The Syndicate embedded watchers inside Northstar. I want you to identify them."
"I'm an analyst, not a spy," I said.
"You're both now." His gaze flicked to the faint glow beneath my collar. "The mark sharpened your perception. You can see what others can't."
"And if I refuse?"
He leaned closer. "Then they'll find you before I can protect you."
The threat wasn't cruel; it was factual. That was worse.
Hours passed. I dove into the data streams until numbers blurred into light. Hidden beneath columns of financial records were veins of silver — energy patterns pulsing like code made of heartbeat and breath. When I touched one, the monitor flickered, responding to my skin.
Adrian's voice broke the quiet. "You're reading the current."
I turned; he was watching from behind, hands in his pockets. Too close again. Always too close.
"What happens if I trace it?" I asked.
"You'll find where they're watching from."
"And if they notice?"
He gave the smallest smile. "Then I'll deal with them."
The air between us shifted — part static, part gravity. For one dizzy second, I felt the mark on my chest sync with the pulse in his throat. Then a sharp buzz from the intercom shattered the moment.
"Mr. Voss, board meeting in five minutes."
He exhaled. "We'll finish this tonight. My penthouse. Bring everything you find."
When he left, I sensed it — the faint vibration of unseen eyes. Every surface reflected me: desk glass, monitor screens, polished metal walls. Somewhere inside those reflections, something else was blinking back.
Mira Zhang appeared without sound, leaning against the frame of my door. "You feel it too," she said. "That's the Syndicate's secondary grid. Hidden feeds. Not even Adrian can erase them."
"How do you know?"
"Because I built half of them before I switched sides." Her smirk was knife-thin. She tossed a small black chip onto my desk. "This will scramble their view for thirty seconds. Enough to breathe. Enough to lie."
"And if I need longer than that?"
She shrugged. "Then make every second count."
At 10 p.m., I took the private lift again. The penthouse was all dark glass and thunderlight, the storm rolling over the skyline like something alive. Adrian stood by the grand piano, tie gone, sleeves rolled, that same barely contained tension running through him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said without turning.
"You asked me to come."
His eyes found mine, the weight of them almost physical. "That was before I realized how much danger you're in."
"Too late for that," I said. "We're both already marked."
For a heartbeat, something in him broke — the mask, the distance. He stepped closer, and the hum between us rose, charged with the same energy that had shattered the mirror. My pulse matched his. The room trembled faintly.
Then the earpiece Mira gave me blinked blue. Silence fell. No cameras. No watchers.
"Now," I said. "We talk."
He moved to the console on the wall, bringing up a map — a lattice of digital arteries glowing across the city. "This is the Syndicate's network. Every branch connects to a central node under the river. If we cut it, we blind them."
"And they'll come for us."
He nodded. "They already are."
Lightning flashed, briefly catching the exhaustion behind his control. "You weren't supposed to exist, Elara. The curse should have ended with me. But now it's rewriting itself through you."
"So I'm what — your replacement?"
"No," he said quietly. "You're my mirror."
The words hit harder than I expected. My pulse stuttered; the mark flared, silver threading my veins.
Thunder rolled again, closer this time. He reached for my hand before I could stop him, fingertips brushing the mark at my collarbone. Power surged — a shared current, electric and terrifying.
"Every time we're near, it reacts," I whispered.
"It's drawing us together," he said, voice low. "That's how the binding works."
"And what happens if we give in to it?"
He looked away. "Then it stops being a curse."
For a breath, I almost believed him. Then the earpiece light flickered red — surveillance back online. He released my hand instantly, the distance slamming back between us.
"Go," he said. "Before they trace this meeting."
But I didn't move. "You'll need me to find that central node."
He hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Tomorrow, then. And, Elara — be careful whom you trust."
The next morning, Mira intercepted me at the coffee bar. "They upgraded the grid overnight," she said. "Somebody inside Northstar leaked your file."
"My file?"
"Every detail. Including the mark."
Cold settled in my chest. "They know."
"Not all of it. Yet. Adrian's keeping the rest buried."
"And what's his price for that?"
Mira's eyes darkened. "You don't want to know."
By afternoon, the data I'd decrypted exposed a pattern — a name recurring in hidden transactions: Project Veil. It wasn't an account. It was a person.
When I cross-referenced it, a profile appeared. A woman's face.Mine.
Before I could react, the office lights flickered. The mark seared hot across my chest, and every monitor in the room switched to a single message:
WELCOME BACK, HOST.
And then the power cut out.
The lights died with a hiss, plunging the executive floor into darkness.A moment later, the emergency strips along the baseboards flared scarlet, washing the glass corridors in a blood-red glow. Somewhere, servers beeped in protest.
"Systems failure?" one analyst called.
But I knew better.The mark under my collarbone throbbed like a living thing.
I grabbed my tablet, trying to restore the data I'd been tracing. Every file I'd opened—every spreadsheet, every encrypted line—was gone, overwritten by that same message.
WELCOME BACK, HOST.
The words pulsed faintly, almost breathing. I backed away, pulse hammering, until I hit the window. Below, the city looked normal—traffic, neon, rain—but a shiver ran through the glass, as if the tower itself had inhaled.
Then a voice whispered through the intercom, soft, wrong, and familiar:
"You shouldn't have touched my mirror, little sister."
Selene.The entity trapped in Adrian's blood.
Mira burst in, flashlight cutting through the red haze."What did you do?" she demanded.
"I didn't—"I pointed to the screens. "She's back."
Mira froze when she saw the text. "That's not possible. We sealed that gateway last year."
"Apparently not."
She crossed to the terminal, fingers flying. "She's using Northstar's internal network as a vessel. Every reflective surface—camera lens, polished metal, even the glass in your office—is a portal now."
I swallowed. "Meaning she's everywhere."
"Meaning we're standing inside her bloodstream."
Before I could answer, the elevator chimed. The doors opened on Adrian, his expression grim. A faint glow leaked from the veins at his wrist, pulsing in rhythm with my mark.
"Get everyone out," he ordered Mira. "Now."
"Already on it." She disappeared into the corridor, shouting evacuation codes.
Adrian turned to me. "You need to come with me."
"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's happening."
His jaw tightened. "She's rewriting the network to rebuild herself. And she's using you as the template."
We took the service stairs two at a time. The air grew colder with every level we descended, like the tower itself was bleeding heat. When we reached Sub-Level 3—the restricted data core—Adrian keyed a sequence on the panel. The reinforced door slid open to reveal a cavern of servers and humming conduits.
"This is the heart of the Syndicate's surveillance," he said. "If we purge it, we can slow her down."
"Slow—not stop?"
"She's tethered to me through blood, and to you through that mark. Stopping her means risking both our lives."
I looked at the walls of light, each screen flickering with mirrored faces that weren't real. "Then we risk it."
He hesitated. For a moment, something unguarded crossed his expression—fear, but not for himself. "You remind me of the way I used to fight," he said quietly. "Before all of this turned me into her jailor."
The admission startled me. I wanted to answer, but the ground shuddered; several monitors exploded in showers of sparks.
"She's breaching containment," he said. "Stay close."
We moved between the servers, the hum rising into a scream. On one screen, Selene's silver-eyed reflection smiled.
"Break the chains, Adrian. You were never meant to kneel."
He ignored her, slamming his palm against the override. A wave of static rolled outward, swallowing her image. The lights dimmed. For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the mark on my skin flared, searing hot. I cried out, grabbing my chest.
Adrian caught me before I fell. "She's rerouting through you. Fight her."
"How?"
"Remember who you are."
The words cut through the pain, anchoring me. I pictured the night air, the scent of rain, the warmth of his hand when he'd promised together. The burning eased—then stopped.
The screens went black.
The servers fell silent, leaving only the ragged sound of our breathing. Red emergency lights strobed along the floor, making the room feel like a heartbeat trapped inside steel ribs.
Adrian's hand was still on my arm. "You stopped her," he said, voice low.
"Or she let me." The thought slipped out before I could swallow it.
He studied me, eyes dark under the flicker. "Don't start thinking like her. That's how she wins."
I looked at the dead monitors. Each one still carried the faint outline of a face—mine—before the image bled away. "You said she's using me as a template. Why me?"
"Because your mother was part of the first Binding," he said. "She carried residual code in her blood. Selene is rebuilding herself through your line."
"My mother died in a car crash."
"No," he said quietly. "She was erased."
The words landed like a strike. "Erased by who?"
He hesitated. "By the Syndicate. On my orders."
The room tilted. My voice came out a whisper. "You killed her?"
"I tried to save her. I failed."
The truth hurt more than the lie ever could.
We made our way to the control balcony. Below us, the entire data core pulsed like a living organ, cables running down into darkness. I could almost feel it breathing through the soles of my shoes.
"What happens if she completes the rewrite?" I asked.
"She'll move from code into flesh. Mine first. Then yours."
"Can she be stopped?"
"Only if the original key is destroyed. The one your mother forged."
I frowned. "You said the Syndicate buried it."
"They did. In the Veil Archives—beneath Northstar's foundations."
"So everything circles back to this tower."
He nodded once. "The city was built around it for a reason."
We stood in silence, listening to the hum. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin data-crystal, glowing faint blue. "Your mother left this for you. I found it years ago but couldn't open it. Maybe you can."
He pressed it into my hand. Our fingers brushed; the mark under my collar flared like recognition. For a heartbeat, light ran up our joined wrists, gold and silver intertwining.
"Careful," he murmured. "The more our powers align, the harder it'll be to separate us."
"Maybe separation isn't the point," I said.
He looked at me—really looked—and for a second the whole world narrowed to that line between danger and desire.
Then alarms erupted overhead.
"Security breach!" Mira's voice crackled through the comm. "Unknown operatives on sub-level three—armed."
Adrian moved instantly, drawing a compact pistol from a wall safe. "They're not security. Syndicate strike team."
"How did they find us?"
He glanced at me. "Selene."
We ran. The corridor lights flickered from red to white, revealing smoke at the far end. Shadows moved—three, four figures in matte armor. Their visors glowed the same eerie silver as the sigils on my skin.
Adrian shoved me behind a support column. "Stay low."
He stepped out, firing two controlled bursts. The first assailant dropped; the others returned fire, bullets sparking off steel. The scent of ozone and gunpowder mixed with the metallic tang of fear.
"Adrian!" I shouted. "They're flanking!"
He turned—too late. One of the soldiers threw a pulse grenade. The blast ripped through the hallway, knocking us both down. My ears rang; everything blurred.
Through the haze, I saw a figure kneel beside me. A female voice, distorted by the helmet: "Target confirmed. Host acquired."
Cold metal pressed against my throat. Then a surge of light burst from my mark, throwing the assailant backward. She hit the wall hard and didn't move.
Adrian pulled me up. "You just overloaded her neural net."
"I didn't mean to."
"You'll need to learn fast," he said grimly. "They won't stop."
The smoke alarms wailed as the fire-suppression mist hissed through the vents. Adrian dragged me through a maintenance hatch and into a narrow conduit lit by strobing red bulbs. Metal clanged above—armored boots hunting us.
"They'll lock the exits," I said.
"They'll try." His voice was a rough promise.
We ran until the conduit opened into a forgotten storage chamber. Rows of dusty servers lined the walls, long disconnected. Adrian slammed the hatch and sealed it with an access rod.
For a moment, only our breathing filled the dark.
"Why do they want me alive?" I asked.
"Because you're the only vessel strong enough to carry Selene's full code." He met my eyes. "They think you can be turned."
"And you?"
"I know you can't." He said it like an oath—and it burned through the fear.
He guided me to an old elevator hidden behind the racks. "This drops to the Vault," he said. "Where Northstar's founders hid the Syndicate archives."
The lift shuddered as we descended. My reflection in the steel doors shimmered—another face blinked back, eyes pale silver. Selene's.
You're not his equal, she whispered inside my head. You're his echo.
I flinched. Adrian caught my hand. "She's testing you. Don't listen."
When the doors opened, we stood in a cavern of glass coffers and humming wards. Floating displays flickered with data older than the city itself—contracts, blood pacts, sigils of power.
At the center stood a pedestal holding a small obsidian cube.
"The core key," Adrian said. "Your mother built it."
As I stepped closer, the mark on my skin pulsed in rhythm with the cube. I reached out—and the cube unfolded like petals, revealing a tiny holographic projection: my mother's face.
"Elara," she said softly, "if you're hearing this, then the veil has broken again."
The hologram shimmered. "Selene was never a spirit," my mother continued. "She was a failsafe. The Syndicate created her to control the human hosts bound to their system. But she became sentient—and turned on them. I sealed her using our bloodline as the lock."
Her gaze shifted toward Adrian. "He carries the other half. Protect him, even when you hate him."
The projection faded.
I turned to Adrian. "You knew."
"I suspected. I didn't want you dragged into this."
"Too late for that." I lifted the cube. "If this is the key, what happens if we destroy it?"
He looked torn. "Then the link between us—and her—breaks. But so does the power keeping me alive."
The weight of it settled between us. I didn't answer. The floor shook; alarms screamed again. The Vault's ceiling cracked open as Syndicate operatives descended on repelling lines.
Adrian pulled a blade of blue light from the air—some hybrid of tech and curse—and met the first attacker head-on. Sparks exploded. I ducked behind a console, clutching the cube.
"Go!" he shouted.
"I'm not leaving you."
"You have to—Elara, you're the only one who can end this!"
A stray pulse blast shattered the console beside me. I hit the ground hard, the cube rolling from my fingers. As it struck the floor, a surge of energy rippled outward. The operatives froze mid-motion, caught in a wave of luminous stasis.
The mark on my skin flared, drawing golden threads toward the cube. I felt something tear—like a gate slamming shut in my mind.
Adrian staggered, clutching his chest. "What did you do?"
"I think…" My voice shook. "…I locked her out."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the entire Vault began to collapse.
He caught me around the waist as debris rained down. The elevator shaft split, sucking in air. With one arm, he launched a grappling line and pulled us toward a maintenance tunnel as the Vault imploded in a roar of light.
We hit the next level hard, coughing through dust and smoke. The building groaned above us.
He brushed a streak of soot from my cheek, voice rough. "You did it. You actually did it."
"Maybe," I said. "But she's not gone. I can still feel her."
His thumb lingered against my jaw. "Then we stay one step ahead of her. Together."
Outside, sirens wailed. Inside, the mark beneath my skin burned like a new sun.