The murmurs rise again, louder this time, tension rippling outward like a shockwave.
As the warriors begin dispersing to prepare for council, I step closer to Elara.
“You invited challenge,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t look at me. “You invited war.”
“War was coming.”
“Now it’s at your doorstep.”
“Yes.”
The docking bay vibrates faintly as heavy cruisers power up deeper within the asteroid complex. Through the open aperture, I see distant engine flares igniting one by one across the system like stars being born too fast and too violently.
Elara follows my gaze.
“This isn’t just about your clan anymore,” she says.
“No.”
“This is sector-wide.”
“Yes.”
“And if you fail in council?”
“Then reform dies,” I reply evenly. “And war accelerates.”
She turns to face me fully.
“Then don’t fail,” she says.
The simplicity of it almost makes me laugh.
“I do not intend to,” I reply.
But as I look past her toward the mobilizing fleet signatures spreading across the sector map, I know the stakes have already expanded beyond diplomacy.
This is no longer about clearing my name.
It is about preventing an entire region from tearing itself apart under a lie.
And the lie has teeth.
CHAPTER 11
ELARA
Reaper territory does not look like the propaganda reels.
It’s louder.
Messier.
Alive.
The interior of the asteroid settlement opens beyond the docking bay in a series of carved corridors reinforced with ribbed metal supports that look almost skeletal, like the inside of something enormous and breathing. Light strips run along the ceiling in uneven lines, casting pale illumination over dark alloy floors scarred by years of boot traffic. The air is warm—warmer than I expect—and threaded with the faint metallic tang of engine residue and worked steel.
