Chapter 1
-The Connections, September 10th, 1958-
The fluorescent lights of The Connections’ underground laboratory buzzed softly, casting a stark glow over the sterile environment. Mother Miranda sat at her desk, her golden eyes scanning over a stack of research notes, yet she barely absorbed a word of them. An unfamiliar feeling gnawed at the edges of her mind—a premonition. Something was going to change. Something was going to interfere with her work, with her plan to bring Eva back.
She tightened her grip on her pen, exhaling sharply. No. Nothing would disrupt her. She had spent decades perfecting the science behind the Mold, refining the Cadou, and manipulating biology itself to create the perfect vessel. She wouldn’t let some lingering feeling distract her from her ultimate goal.
Yet, as her thoughts spiraled, a sharp knock at her office door pulled her from her reverie.
“Enter,” she commanded.
The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, and an all-too-familiar figure stepped inside—Oswell E. Spencer.
Dressed in his usual crisp suit, the older man strode toward her desk with a confident air, his eyes betraying nothing.
“Miranda,” he greeted smoothly, “I thought I’d inform you personally that you’ll be getting a new lab partner.”
Miranda’s brows furrowed. A new lab partner? She despised working with others. The researchers here were competent, yes, but none of them truly understood the depth of her work the way she did. Spencer, for all his brilliance, was only interested in his vision of human evolution.
Still, she masked her irritation with curiosity. “And who, exactly, is this partner?”
Spencer merely smirked. “Why don’t I introduce you?”
With little choice, Miranda rose from her seat and followed him through the pristine corridors of the facility. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and faint traces of decayed organic matter—a reminder of the countless experiments taking place behind each sealed door.
Eventually, they reached the main lobby, where a lone woman stood waiting.
She was dressed sharply in a black turtleneck beneath a fitted white lab coat, her hands clasped neatly behind her back. Dark brown hair framed her face, cascading in soft waves past her shoulders, and when she turned to face them, Miranda was met with striking green eyes—calculating, intelligent, but also holding an unreadable depth.
Miranda felt an unexpected flicker of intrigue.
“This is Roselle Smith,” Spencer introduced. “One of the finest minds in genetic research. I expect the two of you will accomplish great things together.”
Roselle extended her hand. “Doctor Miranda, it’s an honor.”
Her voice was polished, refined—each word enunciated with care, her British accent lending an air of sophistication.
Miranda hesitated for only a fraction of a second before clasping Roselle’s hand. Her skin was cool, her grip firm but not forceful.
“Likewise,” Miranda said, studying her closely.
Spencer gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. I expect progress soon.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving them alone.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Roselle tilted her head slightly. “You seem surprised to see me.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t expecting a partner.”
“Then I’ll do my best to ensure my presence is not an inconvenience,” Roselle said smoothly, offering a small, polite smile.
Miranda wasn’t sure whether that response was meant to be reassuring or a subtle challenge. Either way, she wasn’t about to let herself be caught off guard.
“Come,” she said, turning on her heel. “I’ll show you the lab.”
Roselle followed without hesitation, her measured footsteps echoing against the sterile floor.
As they walked, Miranda found herself glancing at her new colleague more than once. There was something… different about her. Unlike the other researchers, who were often either intimidated by Miranda or too obsessed with their own work to engage with her, Roselle carried herself with effortless confidence. She wasn’t boastful, nor was she meek.
She was simply… composed.
“You’ve worked with The Connections before?” Miranda asked as they passed through the security checkpoint.
“In a sense,” Roselle replied. “I was recruited based on my expertise in molecular reconstruction. My primary focus has been regenerative biology, but my work has extended into virology as well. I believe our research may align more than you think.”
Miranda arched a brow. “Regenerative biology?”
Roselle nodded. “Healing at a cellular level. Reversing decay. Theoretically, even reversing death—under the right conditions.”
Miranda slowed her pace. That was not an answer she had expected.
“You believe death can be undone?” she asked carefully.
Roselle met her gaze. “I believe that given the proper medium, life can be sustained beyond its natural limit. Isn’t that what you’re striving for?”
Miranda felt her heartbeat quicken—not out of fear, but out of something far more dangerous. Hope.
Roselle wasn’t just another scientist thrown into her path. She was someone who understood.
For the first time in years, Miranda found herself curious.
She would have to keep a close eye on Roselle Smith.
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The doors to the lab slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sprawling, pristine space bathed in a sterile white glow. Rows of equipment, cryogenic chambers, and containment units lined the walls, each housing samples, organisms, or experiments in various stages of development. At the far end of the room, a reinforced glass chamber pulsed with faint, golden bioluminescence—the heart of Miranda’s research. The Cadou Cultivation Chamber.
Roselle’s green eyes flickered with curiosity as she took in the sight before her. “Impressive. I expected nothing less from someone of your caliber.”
Miranda noted the sincerity in her tone, but she did not allow herself to be flattered so easily. “I assume Spencer has already briefed you on the nature of my work,” she said, walking toward a row of sealed vials containing preserved Cadou parasites. “But I prefer to explain things myself.”
Roselle followed at a measured pace, her gaze sweeping over the specimens. “I was given the essentials,” she admitted, “but I would rather hear it from you. No one understands this research better than its creator.”
Miranda finally turned to face her, scrutinizing her expression. There was no arrogance in Roselle’s words, no forced admiration—only a quiet respect. It was… rare.
She exhaled slowly, lifting one of the vials. The dark, writhing mass inside pulsed against the glass. “This is the Cadou. A parasite I cultivated using the Mold as a foundation. Unlike the Mold itself, which infects indiscriminately, the Cadou is selective. It can be implanted into a host and reshape their biology, enhancing them beyond natural limits.”
Roselle stepped closer, studying the sample with interest. “Enhancing them… but not perfecting them,” she mused.
Miranda’s lips curled slightly. “Precisely. While the Cadou grants strength and longevity, it is… unpredictable. Many hosts mutate beyond recognition, losing their humanity in the process.” Her golden eyes darkened. “Only a truly compatible vessel can sustain its gifts without degradation.”
Roselle met her gaze without hesitation. “A vessel for someone.”
Miranda stiffened. The other researchers at The Connections understood that she sought immortality, that she experimented with resurrection—but none of them had ever grasped the personal depth of her ambition.
For Roselle to realize it so soon…
Miranda’s grip on the vial tightened. “That information is not public knowledge,” she said coolly.
Roselle tilted her head, unfazed. “It wasn’t difficult to infer. Your research is too meticulous, too purposeful to be driven by mere scientific curiosity. You aren’t seeking to evolve humanity like Spencer—you’re trying to reclaim something you lost.”
Miranda’s breath caught for just a moment. No one had ever confronted her with such brutal honesty before. It should have angered her. But instead, she found herself… intrigued.
She set the vial down carefully. “And what do you think of that?”
Roselle considered her response. “I think it’s admirable,” she finally said. “Love is one of the strongest driving forces in existence. If science can defy death, then why shouldn’t you pursue it?”
Miranda had expected skepticism, perhaps even condescension. But there was none.
She studied Roselle in silence, weighing her words, her presence. There was something different about this woman. Unlike the other researchers, who either feared or revered her, Roselle regarded her as an equal.
Miranda wasn’t sure if she liked that or not.
“You speak as if you share my beliefs,” Miranda said cautiously.
Roselle’s expression remained unreadable. “I believe in results. I believe that if something is possible, it should be pursued—no matter the cost.”
Miranda allowed a small smirk. “Then perhaps you do belong here.”
Roselle smiled in return, though there was something guarded behind her eyes.
Miranda gestured for her to follow. “Come. I will show you the deeper levels of the lab.”
-Lower Laboratories - Experimental Containment Units-
The hallways grew darker as they descended into the lower levels, the lighting dimming to an eerie blue glow. Here, the more volatile experiments were kept—failed vessels, mutated hosts, creatures that had lost all semblance of their former selves.
The moment they stepped through the security doors, a deep, guttural growl echoed from one of the containment units.
Roselle slowed her pace slightly, turning toward the source of the sound. Behind reinforced glass, a grotesque, half-human figure thrashed against its restraints. Its body was bloated and misshapen, patches of blackened flesh crawling with the remnants of a failed Cadou integration.
It let out a wheezing snarl, its milky eyes locked onto them.
Miranda glanced at Roselle, expecting some level of discomfort. Most researchers, even the seasoned ones, avoided this section unless absolutely necessary.
But Roselle merely observed the creature with detached curiosity. “How long did this one survive post-integration?”
Miranda raised a brow. “Two weeks before neurological degradation set in. Physically, it could have survived much longer, but the mind was lost.”
Roselle hummed thoughtfully. “The problem isn’t the parasite itself. It’s the host’s inability to retain cognitive stability. The nervous system is rejecting the foreign influence.”
Miranda crossed her arms. “You sound as if you have a solution.”
“I have theories,” Roselle admitted. “But I would need access to more detailed data to refine them.”
Miranda studied her closely. This woman was no ordinary scientist. She wasn’t here just to assist—she was here to push boundaries, just as Miranda had.
Perhaps Spencer had made a rare, intelligent decision in bringing her here.
Miranda stepped past her, continuing down the corridor. “Then let us see if your theories are worth my time.”
-Later That Evening - Miranda’s Private Office-
The lab had grown quieter as the night stretched on. Most of the researchers had retired to their quarters, but Miranda remained in her office, reviewing the data Roselle had requested.
She found herself thinking about her more than she expected.
Roselle was… unique. In all her years of working with The Connections, Miranda had never met someone quite like her. She was intelligent, refined, and—though Miranda loathed to admit it—beautiful in a way that was difficult to ignore.
It was not a distraction she needed.
And yet, when the soft knock came at her door, she already knew who it was.
“Enter,” she called.
Roselle stepped inside, carrying a datapad. “I’ve compiled the preliminary analysis you requested. I believe there may be a way to stabilize the Cadou’s neurological impact, but it will require further testing.”
Miranda took the datapad, skimming through the information. It was… impressive. More than impressive. Roselle had identified issues even Miranda had overlooked.
She set the pad down, fixing Roselle with a considering stare. “You surprise me, Dr. Smith.”
Roselle tilted her head. “I take that as a compliment.”
Miranda leaned back in her chair. “Tell me, Roselle… why did you accept this position?”
Roselle met her gaze without hesitation. “Because I want to change the world. And I believe you will.”
Miranda felt something shift in that moment.
Perhaps her premonition had been right after all.
Something was going to change.
And Roselle Smith was at the center of it.