He inclines his head slightly—not in respect, but acknowledgment—and withdraws.
The council chamber empties slowly, tension trailing behind the departing leaders like residual heat after combustion.
Elara exhales quietly beside me.
“He’s already consolidating,” she says.
“Yes.”
“You saw who leaned toward him.”
“Yes.”
“And if he secures two more minor clans?—”
“He can force duel,” I finish.
She studies me carefully.
“You’re not concerned,” she says.
“I am.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Concern does not alter outcome.”
We exit into the corridor beyond.
The hum of mobilizing fleets filters faintly through structural vibration. War posture is no longer hypothetical—it is mechanical, measurable, spreading.
A notification pulses across my wrist display.
Alliance public broadcast update.
I project it.
Elara’s image fills the corridor wall.
“…former League aide Elara Vance now confirmed as co-conspirator in extremist plot…”
Footage of our cruiser departing Virex under fire loops behind the commentator’s voice.
“They’re rewriting chronology,” she says quietly.
“Yes.”
“…evidence suggests premeditated coordination between Vance and Reaper extremist Kael…”
Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
“They’re not just framing you anymore,” she says. “They’re mythologizing this.”
“Yes.”
“And the longer this sits in public space?—”
“The harder it calcifies,” I finish.
