Not every wound came from a fist. Some came from silence—the quiet complicity of those who watched and walked away, who saw injustice unfolding and decided that safety was more important than solidarity.Her name was Elara Wynn.She hadn't mocked Luna in the hallways. Hadn't shoved her into lockers. Hadn't spread rumors or poured ice water down her back. She had simply watched. In school, Elara had been Luna's lab partner once—smart, quiet, capable, the kind of student who excelled without drawing attention. They had worked well together, those few weeks, before the bullies noticed and made their disapproval clear.The day Luna was cornered in the courtyard, the day the knife came out and silver blood stained the snow, Elara had been walking past. She had stopped. Had looked straight at Luna, at the terror in her eyes, at the wolves surrounding her.And then she had walked away.Now Elara Wynn served as Deputy Communications Dir
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