The offer didn’t come with banners.That was how Aelin knew it was serious.It arrived as an invitation written in careful ink, delivered by three different messengers who didn’t know about each other. Each copy is identical. Each word chosen sounds reasonable. Respectful. Temporary.A meeting. A coalition. A framework.No throne. No crown. No god-language.Just structure asking to be trusted.Jayden read the letter once, then again, slower. “They’ve learned,” he said.Ivy leaned against a tree, arms crossed. “Or they’ve adapted. Which is worse?”Aera stood close to Aelin, reading over her shoulder. “They keep saying interim. Like that word can’t fossilize.”Aelin folded the letter and slid it into her coat. “That’s the danger of soft power,” she said. “It doesn’t announce itself. It just gets convenient.”The meeting was set in a city that had survived every regime by never fully belonging to one. Stone buildings stacked tight. Streets are narrow enough to discourage marching arm
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