The Ghosts of the Past

The rain hadn’t stopped. It fell in a fine mist, the kind that seeped into clothes and clung to skin, turning the world gray and indistinct. The Montevideo docks were nearly deserted, the vast industrial skeleton of the city looming against the restless sea. Somewhere in the distance, a cargo ship let out a mournful horn, its echo swallowed by the thick air.

Jessica sat on the edge of the bed, the old document spread across her lap. She hadn’t spoken since they returned. Her thoughts moved like the tide outside—relentless, circling. The Order’s insignia stared back at her, black against yellowed parchment. She wasn’t holding history. She was holding her origin.

1954.

Before Vanguard. Before everything.

She ran a hand through her damp hair, exhaling slowly. She had spent so much time believing Vanguard was the enemy, the endgame. Now she wasn’t sure who had been playing them all along.

Behind her, Olivia paced the length of the room, restless energy humming through her limbs. Leanna sat at the small table, flipping through the document again, muttering under her breath.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Leanna said finally. “Vanguard ran fast and loose—pushing limits, chasing headlines. But this?” She tapped a passage marked with handwritten annotations. “This was methodical. Measured. Generational.”

Jessica’s gaze drifted to the white pawn still sitting on the table. The game wasn’t new. They were just the latest players.

Olivia stopped pacing. “So what now?”

Jessica stared at the document a moment longer, then folded it carefully and slipped it into her coat. “Now we find out who the hell started this.”

—

The rain had thinned by the time they reached the archive building. It was one of the city’s forgotten places, a structure wedged between government offices and crumbling remnants of an older Montevideo. The kind of place where history went to be buried.

Jessica let Leanna do the talking. Spanish rolled effortlessly from her tongue as she explained—truthfully enough—that they were researchers looking into mid-century genetic studies for an independent publication.

The old man at the desk barely glanced up, too bored or too indifferent to care. He slid a visitor’s log across the counter and waved them through.

Inside, the air smelled of aged paper and dust. The overhead fluorescents buzzed softly, casting long shadows between the shelves.

Jessica ran a finger along the spine of a weathered ledger, her pulse steady but quickened. Somewhere in here was the beginning.

Leanna pulled the file reference from a battered index. “Third row, shelf B.”

They moved through the stacks, footsteps muffled against the old tile.

Jessica found it first. A bound collection of scientific correspondences, stamped with an insignia she recognized too well. She pulled it free, flipped through the first few pages, and felt her breath hitch. The name Lazarus Vellum stared back at her.

She turned the page. Another name. One she had never seen before:

Cassian Vellum.

Her stomach twisted. The pieces were moving faster now, the puzzle assembling itself whether she was ready for it or not.

She felt Olivia step closer behind her. “Who the hell is Cassian Vellum?”

Jessica’s fingers tightened around the paper. She knew that he was the man who started it all. He didn’t build the game, but he made the rules.

---

The safe house was too small, the walls pressing in as they spread the documents across the table.

Leanna flipped through the pages, scanning quickly. “Lazarus Vellum was the Vanguard scientist we found in the old records. But Cassian—” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen his name connected to any of this before.”

Jessica traced the faded ink, trying to see beyond the words. “Because Vanguard didn’t start with Lazarus. It started here. With this.”

Olivia sat back, rubbing her temples. “And let me guess—no digital records of this anywhere?”

Jessica gave her a look. “You already know the answer.”

Leanna tapped a passage near the bottom of one page. “Wait—this isn’t just research.” Her eyes lifted to Jessica’s. “This is recruitment.”

Jessica took the page, scanning quickly. The words were precise, clinical.

"Selection of viable candidates has begun. The bloodlines remain stable. Subject integrity is paramount. Those unfit for the next stage will be removed."

Her throat went dry. This wasn’t about experimentation. This was about engineering something specific.

Jessica sat back, the weight of it settling. “Vanguard was just one step. They weren’t creating something new. They were continuing something older.”

Leanna nodded grimly. “Which means whoever Mr. Black works for—they aren’t just scientists.”

Jessica exhaled. “They’re architects.”

Silence stretched. Olivia shook her head. “So what do we do?”

Jessica glanced at the pawn, still sitting untouched. It was more than a game piece. It was a message.

Jessica lifted the pawn between her fingers, rolling it against her palm. It felt heavier than before—more than wood now. A burden. A truth she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Now?” She met their eyes. “We find Cassian Vellum.”