“Neither is Yatori,” I shoot back. “Neither were those civilians you had executed. And yet—you touched them.”
His eyes glitter. “Civilians are always touched. That’s how power works.”
I lean forward until my elbows rest on my knees. My compad’s glow paints my hands blue.
“No,” I say quietly. “That’s how cowards work.”
Morazin smiles again, thin. “You want High Lantern because you think it’s the puppet-master.”
“I want High Lantern,” I say, “because I found the relay path through Alliance infrastructure. And you didn’t get that access by praying.”
His smirk widens like I just offered him candy. “You’re still missing the real lever.”
I don’t blink. “Try me.”
Morazin’s eyes slide past me as if Lonari isn’t even there. He speaks like he’s lecturing a classroom.
“Someone in Alliance High Command needed the war to restart,” he says. “They signed the access keys.”
My pulse does a weird, sick little jump.
I hear the words like a door opening in my head, revealing a bigger room full of worse monsters.
“Alliance High Command,” I repeat, voice flat.
Morazin nods slightly, smug again. “The Alliance thrives on external threats. Peace makes citizens ask questions. War makes them shut up and salute.”
Lonari’s voice finally cuts in from behind me, low and lethal. “Name.”
Morazin’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t answer to criminals.”
Lonari chuckles once. It’s not humor. It’s a sound like a blade being tested. “You’re chained to a chair in a criminal safehouse. You answer to whatever breath I allow you.”
Morazin’s throat bobs. He swallows.
But he doesn’t give the name.
Instead he looks at me again, and his tone turns slicker—bargaining.
“You want High Lantern because you want your hearing,” he says. “You want a public stage. You want to force institutions to listen.”
“Yes,” I say.
“And you think if you drag me onto that stage, you win,” he says, and his eyes sharpen. “But you won’t. Because you can’t keep me alive long enough.”
I feel my teeth grind.
He’s right about the danger.
He’s wrong about the outcome.
“You’re trying to bargain for immunity,” I say.
Morazin’s lips part in a satisfied smile. “Smart girl.”
I tap my compad.
A recording indicator flickers on—then another. Then another.
