Time/Date: TC1853.01.11-12 (Evening to Night)
Location: Long Estate → Evidence Facility → Lower Districts
Serenya Long stood in Caelia's private study, violet eyes scanning the locked cabinet with professional assessment. Getting here had been easy—Caelia trusted her adopted daughter, or at least trusted that fear of exposure would keep Serenya compliant. The Lin family matriarch had no idea how quickly that trust would be weaponized against her.
The cabinet held medical access codes. Compounds from the Lin family's pharmaceutical stores. Substances that could heal, enhance, or—if one knew what they were doing—contaminate.
Serenya's altered fingers traced the lock mechanism. Such an elegant piece of security. Biometric scanner keyed to Caelia's spiritual signature. Impossible to bypass without the right bloodline.
Good thing she'd been raised as a Lin daughter for seventeen years.
She pressed her palm against the scanner and fed it a trickle of spiritual energy—the fake cultivation she'd learned through years of mimicking techniques she didn't truly possess. The scanner read Lin family resonance, close enough to pass, and the lock clicked open.
Too easy, Serenya thought as she sorted through the vials and access cards inside. Caelia's grown complacent. She thinks having me under her thumb means I'm harmless.
The medical access card gleamed in the lamplight. Full authorization for the Lin family's pharmaceutical facilities. Caelia used it for her research, for acquiring rare compounds for her experiments. Now Serenya would use it for something far more urgent.
She pocketed the card along with two small vials—genetic destabilization agents, designed for medical research but perfectly suited for evidence contamination. The compounds would degrade DNA samples gradually, making it look like natural breakdown rather than deliberate sabotage.
Replacing everything carefully, Serenya locked the cabinet and erased her presence from the room. Years of sneaking through the Long estate had taught her how to move without leaving traces. How to be invisible when necessary.
One task down. One to go.
***
TC1853.01.11, 23:45 - Evidence Facility, Ring 4
The Imperial Evidence Repository operated twenty-four hours, but the night shift was skeleton crew. Three guards, two evidence technicians, and one administrator who spent most of her time doing paperwork in a back office.
Serenya had studied the facility's operations for two days through Long family intelligence networks. She knew the shift rotations, the blind spots in surveillance coverage, and the procedures for medical personnel accessing biological evidence.
She wore a Lin family medical researcher's uniform—legitimate credentials, proper identification, and the kind of authority that made people ask fewer questions. The medical access card hung from a lanyard around her neck, and she carried a sealed container marked with official Lin pharmaceutical stamps.
Confidence, she reminded herself as she approached the facility's entrance. Act like you belong here, and most people won't question it.
The guard at the entrance barely glanced at her credentials before waving her through. "Medical pickup?"
"DNA analysis consultation," Serenya said smoothly, her voice carrying the bored professionalism of someone doing routine work. "Lin family assisting with genetic marker identification in an ongoing investigation."
The guard nodded and returned to his post. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in harsh white illumination. The facility was designed for function over comfort—cold, sterile, efficient.
An evidence technician looked up from his desk as she entered the main processing area. "Can I help you?"
Serenya presented the access card. "Dr. Lin sent me to examine the DNA samples from case file 1853-017-B. Imperial investigation, celestial family involvement. We need to verify genetic markers before the samples are processed."
The technician checked his terminal, frowning slightly. "That's... unusual. We don't normally allow external access before lab processing."
"The case involves potential celestial bloodline heritage," Serenya said with just the right amount of impatience. "Lin family has been requested to provide expertise. If you'd like to call Dr. Lin at this hour to verify..."
She let the implication hang. Disturbing a Lin family doctor late at night over routine verification? The technician's expression said he wanted no part of that political complication.
"I'll need to log your access," he said finally, typing on his terminal.
"Of course."
The records would show a legitimate medical consultation. By the time anyone thought to verify with Caelia—if they ever did—the DNA samples would already be compromised and Serenya would have covered her tracks.
The technician led her to the cold storage section. Rows of sealed evidence containers lined the walls, each tagged with case numbers and dates. He scanned the database, then pulled three containers.
"Case 1853-017-B. Three DNA samples collected TC1853.01.08." He set them on the examination table. "You have fifteen minutes. Don't break the seals without logging it."
"Understood."
Serenya waited until he returned to his desk, then examined the containers. Three samples—blood, hair follicles, and what looked like skin cells. All collected from Mara during the police investigation. All containing genetic evidence that would prove she was the daughter of Darian Long and Caelia Lin.
All about to become useless.
She retrieved one of the vials from her pocket—genetic destabilization compound, colorless and odorless. The substance worked by introducing enzymes that accelerated natural DNA degradation. Within days, the genetic markers would break down. Within a week, the samples would be too compromised for analysis.
And the best part? It would look entirely natural. Just unfortunate storage conditions, temperature fluctuations, and improper handling. The kind of thing that happened all the time in overworked evidence facilities.
Serenya opened the vial carefully, her hands steady despite the enormity of what she was about to do. This was evidence tampering in an imperial investigation. If caught, she'd face decades in prison at minimum.
But I won't get caught, she told herself. Because I'm better than the idiots who created this mess in the first place.
She used a medical-grade injector to introduce microscopic amounts of the compound into each evidence container—through the seals, into the preservation solution, ensuring even distribution. The compound would work slowly, giving her time to be far away before anyone noticed the degradation.
Five minutes. Ten. The contamination was complete.
Serenya sealed everything back up, disposed of the empty vial in her medical waste container, and called the technician back over.
"Samples are viable for Lin family analysis," she reported professionally. "Genetic markers appear intact. We'll await the official lab results and cross-reference with our records."
The technician logged her departure, and Serenya walked out of the evidence facility with measured steps. Not too fast—that would look suspicious. Not too slow—she needed to be gone before anyone thought to verify her story.
Three blocks away, in an alley between commercial buildings, Serenya finally allowed herself to breathe. Her hands were shaking now, adrenaline catching up with her.
Done. The first part is done.
The DNA samples would degrade over the next few days. The lab would discover the contamination around TC1853.01.13 or 14. They'd request fresh samples. Schedule retesting for TC1853.01.18.
By which point Mara would be dead, and fresh samples would be impossible to collect.
***
TC1853.01.12, 02:00 - Lower Districts, Ring 7
Serenya should have gone home. Should have returned to the Long estate, played the dutiful daughter, and waited for news.
But she couldn't. Not yet. Not when the second part of Garrick's plan still needed attention.
The lower districts at this hour were a different world from the pristine nobility of Ring 2. Here, buildings showed their age in cracked facades and rusted metal. Street lights flickered intermittently. The kind of area where people minded their own business and didn't ask questions.
Perfect for what she needed to find.
Serenya had changed clothes in a public bathhouse—the medical uniform replaced with nondescript working-class garments that let her blend into the shadows. Her silver hair was hidden under a dark hood. The violet eyes that marked her as nobility were obscured behind tinted spectacles.
She moved through the streets with practiced ease, following intelligence reports from Long family networks. They monitored movements in the lower districts—crime patterns, population shifts, anything that might affect noble interests. And their most recent data had flagged something interesting.
A young woman matching Mara's description had been spotted near the Craftsman's Quarter. Not confirmed, but suggestive. Someone moving carefully, avoiding main streets, behaving like they didn't want to be found.
She's here somewhere, Serenya thought, scanning the darkened buildings. Hiding. Probably in a safe house or rented room. Thinking she's clever.
But Mara didn't understand how thoroughly the nobility monitored even the lower districts. Didn't realize that there were eyes everywhere, reporting back to those with resources to pay for information.
Serenya spent two hours canvassing the area. Not obviously searching—that would draw attention. Just walking, observing, and noting which buildings had fresh occupancy signs, which showed unusual activity patterns.
By dawn, she had three possibilities. Three locations where someone might be hiding. She couldn't confirm which one without more invasive surveillance, but it was a start.
Enough for now, she decided as the first light touched the eastern horizon. I'll report to Garrick. Let him decide how to proceed.
She made her way back toward Ring 5, shedding the working-class disguise in a storage facility she'd rented for exactly this purpose. Back into noble clothing. Back into the role of Serenya Long, dutiful daughter, innocent of any wrongdoing.
By the time she returned to the Long estate, the sun was fully up and the household beginning its morning routines. Caelia was already awake, reviewing research notes in her study. She looked up as Serenya entered.
"You're up early," Caelia observed, pale blue eyes assessing.
"Couldn't sleep," Serenya said easily. "Took a walk in the gardens."
It wasn't even a lie—she had walked through gardens, just not the Long family ones. Caelia accepted the explanation with a dismissive nod and returned to her notes.
She has no idea, Serenya thought with dark satisfaction. None of them do. They think I'm the weak one. The scared one. The one who needs protection.
But she'd just committed evidence tampering and reconnaissance for murder, and none of them suspected a thing.
***
TC1853.01.12, 10:00 - Brenner Estate
Garrick Brenner received Serenya's coded message shortly after breakfast. The old merchant prince read it twice, pale green eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
DNA samples contaminated. Degradation will be discovered within 48 hours. Three potential locations identified in the lower districts, Craftsman's Quarter area. Awaiting further instructions.
"Excellent," Garrick murmured to himself. His hands, which had trembled with age and stress three days ago, were steady now. Purpose did that. Action. The knowledge that he was solving the problem rather than being paralyzed by it.
He burned the message in his desk's spirit lamp and summoned Edmund to his study.
His son arrived looking haggard. Edmund hadn't slept well since the warehouse meeting. Guilt did that to weak men. But guilt wouldn't save them from execution, so Edmund would simply have to live with his conscience until the problem was solved.
"Serenya has succeeded with the contamination," Garrick reported without preamble. "The evidence will be compromised within two days. Fresh samples will be requested, retesting scheduled for TC1853.01.18."
Edmund's face, already pale, went paler. "And the... other matter?"
"Three possible locations. We'll need to verify which one before we act." Garrick tapped his fingers on the desk, considering logistics. "The explosion must look natural. Gas leak, faulty wiring, an unfortunate accident in aging infrastructure. Common enough in the lower districts that investigation will be cursory at best."
"Father, I—" Edmund stopped, seeming to struggle with words. "Is there truly no other way?"
"Do you want to watch your daughters executed?" Garrick asked bluntly. "Because that's what happens if Mara lives long enough to testify. She'll tell them everything. Seventeen years of abuse. Systematic poisoning. The baby swap. And they'll trace it all back to us."
He leaned forward, voice dropping to something harder. "I built this family from dirt, Edmund. From farmers barely scraping survival to merchant princes who dine with nobility. I will not let seventeen years of one girl's testimony destroy ninety years of my work."
Edmund looked away, unable to meet his father's eyes. "What do you need me to do?"
"Contact Serenya again. Tell her to verify the location—carefully. No overt surveillance that might alert the target. Once we know which building, we move quickly. The explosion happens before the lab discovers the contamination, while we still have plausible deniability."
"And after?"
"After, Mara Brenner is a tragic casualty of lower district infrastructure failures. Selene takes responsibility for the baby swap—a crime of jealousy and madness. The rest of us express appropriate shock and dismay." Garrick's expression hardened. "And we survive."
Edmund nodded slowly, shoulders bowed under the weight of what they were planning. But he left to carry out his orders anyway, because survival trumped morality, and family loyalty trumped conscience.
Garrick watched him go, feeling nothing but grim satisfaction. They would survive this. All of them except Selene, but she'd brought it on herself with her schemes and stupidity.
And once it was done, once Mara was ash and memory, the Brenner family would continue as it always had—ruthless, practical, and untouchable.
***
TC1853.01.12, Evening - Long Estate
Serenya received Edmund's coded message while preparing for dinner. The instructions were clear: verify the location, but maintain distance. No direct surveillance that might alert the target.
Three locations, she thought, reviewing her mental notes. The boarding house with the individual cottages. The converted warehouse apartments. The safe house in the Craftsman's Quarter.
She'd need to be clever about this. Mara might be hiding, but she wasn't stupid. If she sensed surveillance, she'd move. And finding her again would be exponentially harder.
Tomorrow, Serenya decided. I'll narrow it down tomorrow using indirect methods. Utility usage patterns, delivery records, neighborhood gossip. Someone will have noticed something unusual.
For tonight, she would play her role. Dutiful daughter at the family dinner table. Perfect celestial heir showing appropriate concern for family matters. No one watching her carefully constructed facade would guess what she'd done in the last twenty-four hours.
No one except Amara, perhaps. The blonde girl had a way of seeing through performances. But Amara was busy with her own schemes—something involving Prince Kael and the Xuán marriage. Serenya didn't know the details and didn't want to.
The less they shared about their individual plots, the safer they all were.
Six days, Serenya counted as she descended to dinner. Six days until TC1853.01.18. Six days to find her, verify the location, and arrange the explosion.
Six days until Mara Brenner stopped being a problem.
And if a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that this was murder, that she was planning to kill someone who'd never done anything to her beyond exist...
Well. Serenya had learned long ago to ignore inconvenient voices. Survival required pragmatism. And she intended to survive, no matter whose ashes she had to walk through to do it.