David stood, every movement of his body slow, deliberate. “This is slander,” he said, voice rising with practiced outrage. “Manipulated data. Fabricated nonsense from a camp that’s losing ground.”I didn’t flinch. “If you’re so confident,” I said, my voice steady but sharp, “release your internal co
Rain slashed sideways across the summit compound as the storm hit in full. Thunder rolled in overlapping waves, loud enough to shake the windows in their frames. The halls buzzed with more than weather—the kind of static that comes when people sense a change in the air but don’t yet know its shape.
I nodded slowly, then thanked him. My voice barely carried. The name rang in my chest like a bell.Not an hour later, I was summoned to the infirmary. Elder Thorne, who’d collapsed again early in the summit, had asked for me specifically.The light in the room was low. Clean. His eyes were open and
The morning broke to whispers—thick, low murmurs curling through the halls of the council chamber. Adam’s name hovered like smoke in the air, never spoken too loud, never spoken too soft.Officially, it was a “health-related withdrawal.” Unofficially, everyone knew better. The word ‘resigned’ wasn’t
I watched her retreat. And then I walked back inside.Emma and I took over the data room that afternoon. We pulled our chairs close, logged into the internal systems, and ran security audits until our eyes stung and our spines ached. We didn’t talk much—just low murmurs, shared glances, the occasion
The folder hit Adam’s desk with a crack that echoed through the room, loud enough to make him flinch.“Care to explain,” I said, voice sharp and clipped, “why your credentials were used to rewrite voting logs?”He blinked at me, slow and stupid. Or pretending to be. His fingers tensed where they res