The rain tapped lightly against the tall London windows. The chandelier glow dimmed across the treasure hunters’ private residence, reflecting in Basil Jefferson’s weary eyes as he sat alone on the leather couch. A half-finished glass of whisky rested in his hand. He was watching the news on his phone, footage of Star Harbor beaming across the screen. The president’s convoy, the cheering crowds, the skyline gleaming in afternoon sun.

Then his screen flickered.

A call.

Norway.

Basil’s heart clenched.

He answered immediately.

“Thea?”

The voice on the other end was sharp, icy, efficient.

“Sir, you will not believe this. Your son is in Star Harbor.”

Basil shot to his feet so fast the whisky nearly spilled.

“What? What the hell is he doing there?”

“He was doing something extremely foolish,” Thea replied. “And was caught by the secret service.”

Basil’s breath stopped.

“The secret service? My god. What did he do? Is he in custody?”

“Not exactly. He is free. Someone booked his flight for home. He is leaving in the morning.”

Basil paced across the carpet, running a hand down his face.

“I do not understand. Why would he be involved with secret service matters in the first place?”

Thea exhaled softly.

“He tried to infiltrate the snipers.”

Basil froze.

“What? Was he trying to kill the president?”

“It is hard to say who the real target was,” Thea answered. “Or what he thought he was doing. But listen carefully. The secret service let him go. They escorted him to his hotel. And you should know who was involved.”

Basil’s eyes closed slowly.

“He met Miles?”

“Yes. Miles was involved directly. Sir, I am certain he knows about you now.”

A cold wave passed down Basil’s spine.

“My stupid child… what was he thinking…”

“The Grandmaster believes Miles was his target,” Thea continued. “I called because he has given you a warning. Next time it will not be overlooked.”

Basil’s hands trembled slightly around the phone.

“I will… I will make sure of it.”

“And,” Thea added, “call him. He wants to know what the treasure hunters are planning.”

“I will call him.”

The call ended.

Silence filled the room. Basil stood in the dim light, his jaw tightening, his chest tight with dread and guilt. Outside his window, the London wind howled against the stone. His son… his foolish, reckless son… had stepped into a fire he did not understand.

A knock broke the stillness.

“Come in,” Basil said quietly.

A man entered, dressed in a formal suit, hair slicked back for the evening gathering.

“Mr. Jefferson, the reunion party starts soon. You should come downstairs.”

Basil placed his glass on the table and forced a controlled breath.

“Okay. I am coming.”

He straightened his tie, adjusted his cuffs, and walked toward the door.

Whatever awaited him downstairs, and whatever storms Miles Sterling was about to stir across continents… Basil knew one thing:

Nothing would remain the same.

….

Midnight draped the Pearl Villa in a soft, silver quiet, broken only by the distant wash of waves against the Star Harbor shore. Inside Miles’s room, a single lamp illuminated the documents spread across his desk. He sat with elbows resting on the polished wood, eyes sharpened with focus as he studied one particular page of the file President Maxwell had entrusted to him earlier that day.

The parchment-like sheet held drawings and ancient diagrams, the edges rough as though pulled from a ruin rather than a government archive. Miles traced a finger lightly along the sketched outlines of an ancient vault door carved into stone. Strange symbols surrounded it, spiraling like cryptic instructions left behind by a forgotten civilization.

The section on the lock mechanism drew his attention most.

It described a vault buried deep within the old ruins that lay in the untouched wilderness of the Raven continent. An expanse of thick forests, sacred cliffs, and dangerous creatures that had never been disturbed by modern development. The government, aware of the delicate ecosystem, had long declared the entire region off limits. It was a place time itself seemed to have abandoned.

Miles read the warning again.

The vault required a unique key.

A key no one had ever seen.

A key no scholar or historian could describe.

And carved into the stones at the site, weathered by centuries of wind and rain, was a clear warning:

If the vault is opened by force, the treasure will collapse into the lava pits below. The disturbance may trigger magma flow and destroy the land completely.

Miles closed his eyes briefly. Whoever built the vault had not only guarded their treasure but bound it to the land itself. One wrong move and the ruins would become a graveyard of molten stone.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

A coded message from Charles at the Sterling Security base.

Miles tapped it open.

Charles had sent a full report. The captured cartel members had broken under pressure and revealed everything they knew about the treasure hunters. A list followed. Names. Groups. Networks. Some were unfamiliar, but a few sent a cold recognition through Miles’s veins.

He leaned back in his chair and smirked softly.

“So you are still crawling in the shadows,” he murmured. “Treasure hunters… I am coming for every one of you.”

He reached for the satellite phone beside him.

The call rang only once before it was answered.

A familiar voice flowed through, deep and resonant, a woman who carried the weight of mountains in her tone.

“Ghost?”

Miles exhaled calmly. “Chief Zela. I remember something you told me long ago. You called me a prince. I need to know the reason why.”

There was a pause. A soft intake of breath.

“Prince… you are finally ready to ask,” Zela said. “Then it is time we speak face to face. I want you to come to the tribe.”

Miles nodded to himself. “Alright. Prepare everyone. I may be bringing war to your doorstep.”

Zela did not hesitate. “We have waited for this day. The tribe will fight for our prince without fear. Just give the word.”

“I will contact you when the time comes,” Miles replied.

“As the prince commands.”

The call ended, leaving the quiet hum of the room to settle once more.

A knock sounded at the door.

Miles turned. “Yes?”

Daniel peeked inside, wearing a soft but worried smile. “Time to sleep, son. It is past midnight. You need rest if you want your body to keep functioning properly.”

Miles let out a small breath and smiled back. “Sorry to worry you, father. I am going to sleep now. Good night.”

“Good night, son.”

The door closed gently.

Miles gathered the papers, stacked them neatly, and placed the sealed file at the corner of his desk. He glanced once more at the diagrams of the ancient vault, the warnings, the unknown key that might change everything.

Then he switched off the lamp and moved to the bed.

As he lay down, the weight of the world seemed to hover just above his shoulders. Enemies gathering in London.

Miles closed his eyes.

….

The morning sunshine poured gently into the Pearl Villa dining room, carrying with it the excited chatter of news channels from the television. Hope and Asher munched happily on pancakes while Elena, Daniel, and Miles listened to the anchor’s electrified tone.

The broadcast shifted to international news.

“Last night brought a global breakthrough,” the anchor announced. “The infamous El Pueno Cartel leader Javier Mendoza and his right hand Santiago were captured by Interpol in Star Harbor. Sources indicate they were found during secret service security sweeps conducted for the President’s visit. Why they were in Star Harbor remains unclear, but their capture has been confirmed.”

Miles sipped his coffee calmly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

The anchor continued.

“The El Pueno Cartel has been involved in numerous crimes such as homicides, arms trafficking, and large scale robberies. Their leadership appearing on the Most Wanted lists of multiple nations. This is a tremendous victory for global security.”

A new statement from the President’s Office appeared on screen.

“Star Harbor is a crucial hub for the Republic of Haven. We are dedicated to ensuring no criminal network takes root here. In the coming months, we will also begin development of a new beach site on the southeast shore to promote tourism and accelerate economic growth.”

Elena gasped softly. “A new beach… I cannot wait. It has been so long since we had a proper family outing.”

Daniel chuckled. “Indeed. A new development will bring more life into the city.”

Miles leaned forward slightly, eyes still on the broadcast. “With that announcement, guess which party is winning the next election again.”

Daniel let out a thoughtful hum. “True. But unlike most politicians, what he promises tends to actually happen.”

Miles nodded. “That is true. He knows what the people need long before they speak it.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “I did not know you had political views, son.”

Miles smiled faintly. “I am not interested in politics. I am just familiar with the President. Very familiar.”

Elena remembered. “Of course. When you returned, you said you worked under him.”

Miles let out a quiet laugh. “I did. And believe me, he is powerful enough that he could stage a coup and place the entire country under military rule if he wanted.”

Daniel stared in disbelief. “I hope he never does such a thing.”

“He will not,” Miles assured softly. “He believes in people, not power.”

The room settled into a peaceful hush as breakfast continued.

…

London. The Private Palace of Elias Finch

The mood in this room was different. Darker. Thicker.

A servant entered Elias’s study with careful steps, holding an envelope.

“Sir… this just arrived. The mailman insisted it was addressed directly to you.”

Elias, sitting beneath a towering sculpture of twisted metal and glass, looked up with mild annoyance. “Show me.”

The servant placed it in his hand and stepped back.

Elias tore open the outer envelope.

Inside was another one.

A smaller, cleaner envelope.

On its front, written in bold, unmistakably deliberate letters:

From Miles Sterling

Elias froze.

The room felt like it tilted.

To be Continued…

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